


be still my foolish heart

by toddxnderson



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, for now, just gay yearning folks, look at me having joy in my heart, post play but it’s HAPPY INSTEAD OF SAD, you’re safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toddxnderson/pseuds/toddxnderson
Summary: in which mr perry doesn’t find out about the play. in which the best day of Neil’s life has a sweeter ending. in which tragedy, for a moment, is averted.
Relationships: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	be still my foolish heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to mmsl except laina bc i no longer trust u after the het neil stunt
> 
> ANYWAY have some soft gay anderperry 
> 
> title from almost (sweet music) by hozier bc yearning

Todd didn’t have much experience with the theatre. Sure, his parents were pretentious enough to drag him along to one or two shows when he was big enough to sit in subdued silence, halfway between a shy child with a nervous disposition and an even shyer teenager who had reason behind his anxiety. He knew a little about acting, enough to be able to preemptively parrot his parents’ opinions of shows and movies and, occasionally, operas, but outside their frame of reference he was largely useless. He’d pissed off Charlie accidentally once, criticising an actress his parents found irritating out of habit and the itching desire to please, a mistake that opened him up to a rapid-fire debate that largely consisted of Todd growing increasingly flustered and apologising profusely. He was bad at forming opinions sometimes, even these days, worried he’d get it wrong. 

But he didn’t need anyone to tell him just how brilliant Neil was. 

Everything about him had just radiated that elusive talent, the kind he’d seen glimpses of in the past, and, more than that, sheer joy. He could see it on his face, an unending wholeness he’d seen only a few times before; he could tell when Neil was faking smiles. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who ever did.

And oh, that final monologue. Puck asking for forgiveness, something a little more himself about the way he spoke than had been present for the rest of the play. It certainly wasn’t lost on him that Neil was looking directly at him for most of the delivery. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. But he knew, and he knew and he knew- Neil Perry deserved every single splinter of applause that echoed through the theatre that night. He didn’t stop clapping until his hands were red and fizzing. He clapped, and he stared as though it would make Neil see him and when he came on for his second bow he felt the click of his look being met and there they were, watching each other from opposite ends of the dimly-lit auditorium. Not smiling. Not moving. Existing.

Neil emerged from the wings, smile stretched tight with exhausted happiness. The poets swarmed around him instantly, a buzzing throng of congratulations filling the air with sweetened pride, but he was barely looking at them, barely noticing, searching instead for the reflected shine of white light on soft brown hair. 

“Todd,” he said without really meaning to, the word spilling from his mouth without warning. He hated the desperation in it. He tried again. “Todd.”

“Neil? Neil, oh my God,” a voice called, quiet and filled with a steady hum of excitement. “Neil.”

A face emerged from somewhere between Knox and Charlie, eyes bright and sturdy, grinning. 

“You were- Jesus, you were amazing.”

There was no time to respond, there in the busy rush and clamour of the theatre foyer, but Neil looked at him hard, smiled wider, trying to tell him without saying the words that felt embarrassing, unworthy, somehow;

_Thank you._

And then came Mr Keating adding his own heap to the already mountainous praise, and the long walk back through the sparks of fallen snow, and the laughter and the glances and the trying-not-to-look, the closeness of Neil’s shoulder pressed into Todd as he told a joke. Mr Keating, joking about a girlfriend from his adolescence. Knox’s hand in Chris’s, and the small jealous glance Charlie threw towards them. Everything seemed to be about love, all of it; the night sang with romance, stars shining tender and soft. 

He looked back at Neil. He was watching the snow. 

“I kept thinking, you know,” he said suddenly, completely still against the sky. “About how lucky I was. I mean, my father- anything could have happened.”

Todd didn’t know what to say. “But it didn’t,” he settled on, slow and deliberate, searching Neil’s face for any sign of a mistake. 

“No. You’re right. It didn’t.” He sighed. “That’s all that matters.”

Todd knew he wasn’t imagining the brush of fingertip on fingertip, the solid reassurance. Another secret _thank you._ Another glance away. 

Neil held the door for Todd and closed it behind him as they slipped into their dorm, shouts still echoing down the hall from their friends. 

The room was empty, and yet there was something odd about it, something not quite real; past versions of themselves seemed to run through it, yelling and laughing and lying quietly, ghosts of happiness since faded and yet still so real, still present. Eternal. 

They moved off in separate directions, Neil shedding his coat and toeing off his shoes. There was a half-silence, soft and calm, the echoes of life resounding through the walls from the other dorms. Neil muttered something from his bed, fast and low, too delicate for Todd to pick out. He glanced back, but the boy was watching the door, staring at the place where the hinges met the frame. 

When the words came out, it was all at once, in a desperate, panicked rush. “You were good, Neil. You were really good.”

He startled. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” A pause. Then- “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course!” He didn’t say what he meant to, which was closer to admonishing- _how dare you doubt it, you self-cynic, you._

Neil pushed himself up from the bed, thrumming with a nervous energy Todd had observed in him hundreds of times before, a twitch in his fingers and a humming panic in his pacing footsteps as he walked to the desk, looking down, looking away. Always looking away. 

Todd’s tongue suddenly felt very heavy and dry in his mouth. He already knew why. The staccato of his heart, louder and infinitely louder- and Neil, Neil, Neil, half turned towards the window fiddling with his crown of thorns, golden light from the electric bulb catching on his jaw. The snow swirling outside, the darkness. And God, the light. 

He didn’t realise he was staring until it was too late. Neil glanced up at Todd, almost laughed, but something hardened in his eyes, solidified. Something like a switch flicking suddenly in the brown rings of his irises. A sudden understanding. Everything falling into place. 

Todd spoke first. “Neil-”

“I’m not the only one,” Neil said slowly, cutting him off. “It’s not just me.” Then, sharper, panicked, “Please tell me it’s not just me.”

He was surprised he got the words out at all, dry and shaking as they were. “It’s not just you.”

Neil moved towards him haltingly, crown discarded on the desk. He was trembling, Todd noticed with a start. 

“Todd, I-” he began, but broke off, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked torn up somehow, all half-twisted out of shape by something stretching outwards. 

“It’s ok, you- you don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I want to.” He took a deep breath, smiled like it didn’t hurt. “I think I’ve known this for a while. Since that day, your poem with Keating, you just- you looked like the sun. I don’t know how else to say it.”

“Oh.” _Say something, anything,_ he begged himself. But no words made it out. 

“I’m sorry,” Neil said, stepping back with a forced laugh. “This was stupid.”

Todd caught his elbow as he turned away, pulled him back to face him, _say something say something-_

“I think I’m in love with you.”

A half-gasp, a tear in the moment. A breathy little laugh. “What?”

“I’m sorry if that’s not- what you meant, I mean- Neil, I just-”

Neil was staring at him in a glorious mix of joy and surprise, a terrified delight. He moved forward, so close Todd could feel the rustle of fabric on skin. So close, so much. Not enough. 

He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight as though they stung with saltwater, then shook his head in what seemed like disbelief.

“Todd Anderson, can I kiss you?”

A nod. A warmth. A wholeness. 

The night swelled with love.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! u can find me on twitter @toddxnderson !!


End file.
